Astra (Art and Environmentalism)

The Mona Lisa - Astra

What was not sacrificed
to obtain the dream
you envisioned?

Did she not give you her womb?
Did she not lay down her passions?
Did she not sweep her 'self'
under that frayed blue rug
she hated
for you?

What was it worth
-The golden arm you brought
to sweep away
the very being you
once loved?

And why now are you
weary of the reward?

Was this not your doing?
Was this not your very own creation?

Were those not your arms
stretched out,
paintbrush between
those greedy fingers?

Was that not the low moan of your plea
that your hands rest the bristles
in all the right ways
for your vision of the Mona Lisa?

Why then
when the long stem
of your instrument
finally met the long wooden pallet
for the last time
did you ask yourself
why her smile was not wider?

Perhaps she grew weary
of being painted.
And could not render any more.

(c) Astra Allen

When I feel your hand
rise up my skirt
and ask for my fruit
and I don't even
know you
I feel
dead.

Our Cells


Could your new cell be so different than the cold motel room?

Locked up, cracked up

Smoking away the days

That are now only behind you and me.

And we thought we were free.

No ties, no lies, no chains to bind

but one.

And acknowledgment of our failure when even that was done.

Jumping clubs, jumping beds.

Tasting the nightlife but never the dawn.

That, my friend, was unwelcome.

And that was what we called fun.

Yes every dog has its day

And we were the bitches that slept through them all

Geeking, wigging, frying balls to the wall

And we didn't feel a thing, not even the tiniest little sting

We made sure of that.

I can't imagine theres no solace for you now where 'you're at.'

I too have my bars that bind.

(topless bars vs prison)

Yours are just a different kind.



Written for Rene Fox (2000) Astra Copyright 2000

Empty Nest


Something once so alive
expells itself from deep inside.
A mothers womb now and empty pit
with shreds of tissue clinging
for life to it.
But soon 'it' will find its way outside
with the beads of blood
now caked on her thighs.
Fair-warning to her that what was once
so alive has died
-is now running out from the inside
with pink and tan tissue and all the womb
denied.
And what might be left of this mother's pride.

Astra Blanchard

Copyright ©2006 Astra Bianca Blanchard

In my daydreams I am sifting through your ashes

as flakes of you saunter off into the distance.

There goes your skin.

(Living in your head
Without anything to numb you
Living on the edge
Without anything to numb you)

In my daydreams, shards and chunks of your bones clog the catalyst

from one container to the other and I can't fight off the tears

It all boils down to this moment.. Your bones in my hand.


(Living in your head
Without anything to numb you
Living on the edge
Without anything to numb you)


In my daydreams I am sitting beside you

you are tattooed to the gills and my hand

is rested on your forearms all covered in ink


(Living in your head
Without anything to numb you
Living on the edge
Without anything to numb you)

you are telling me that you never meant it to go this far

that dying wasn't what you wanted

that you'll wipe the slate away clean and

I won't be standing in my kitchen
falling into the arms of my friends

as they tell me you're gone

this time for good

(Living in your head
Without anything to numb you
Living on the edge
Without anything to numb you)

In my daydreams

you breathe.

(Poetry by Astra except all ( )s are excerpts from "Numb" by Sia)